FIRE FEATHERS

I have cut the past locks

From my hair

And threw them

In your garden's garbage

Where sits

The blind guardian

And I stepped towards

The tree with one apple

And fire feathers as leafs

All colorful and curled

I touched them

They didn't burn

Warm and soft

They led me to

The rusted gate

And as I opened it

I inhaled

The first breath

After the coma